


Shakey Reality

by Ribbonlette



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Disassociation, NOT a suicide attempt, Self-Harm, drug overdose, it's just an accident, maybe?? i'm not sure..., unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonlette/pseuds/Ribbonlette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's terrifying to realize you don't exist. That no one can actually see you and if you jumped from the top of your apartment building no one would mourn not because no one likes you, (though that applies too) but because they wouldn't even know you were gone. After all, you weren't even there in the first place."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shakey Reality

**Author's Note:**

> This is barely editted but I'm sick of looking at it. I struggled a lot with ending it because the actual... Izaya freaking out is what I wanted to write. Oh well.
> 
> It's not extremely graphic, tho there is a bit of a description of cutting and blood, so if you're squeamish... yeah. Just a fair warning.
> 
> But I hope you enjoy and please leave kudos if you do!!

He's ignoring me. He isn't answering my texts. He isn't responding. He usually calls by now.

Why hasn't he called?

Why am I sitting, curled up at my desk, waiting for the phone to ring like some desperate idiot?

Maybe... maybe he hasn't answered any of my texts because I didn't send them? No, I've checked and double checked and triple checked my phone. I sent them.

So... why?

Maybe... maybe I did send them, but they never arrived.

Never arrived, because... they don't exist. But I did write them, I remember it.

So then... that would mean I don't exist.

And getting texts from someone who doesn't exist is impossible.

No one has talked to me at all today, after all. No one has acknowledged my existence.

So I guess...

I don't have one.

\----

This isn't the first time that Izaya's had the thought that maybe he just doesn't exist. That all of his interactions are fabrications of his mind, trying to fill the void so the ache in his chest from being ignored and forgotten can be just a little bit lighter. A bit less painful.

However, the thought has never been this intense. Never consumed his mind like it is now. 

Because Shizuo always saw him. Shizuo was the one person whose actions he couldn't predict, even after all these years. The one person who he was sure could see him, knew of his existence. After all, there was no one else who had such outward turmoil directed at him. So Shizuo made him real.

But if Shizuo stop answering him, then how real could he really be?

Maybe he is just a god, as he likes to tell himself. Probably a minor god, he's self aware enough to admit that. One close to humans. A god of death, who whispers in the ears of those wanting an end, pushes them over the edge with his words. A god of chaos, whispering ideas in the ears of those who would act upon them, no matter how foul and cruel. Stirring up trouble in this town and enjoying the ensuing chaos but never truly seen as he is only a voice after all, only an idea.

Maybe he's only a vengeful spirit then.

But either way, to his humans that would make his existence invisible at the very least, nonexistent at the most. Even gods and spirits can't exist if no one believes in them or acknowledges them and with no interaction in - how long? It must have been days now... (it's only been a few hours) - far too long he just can't be sure he is still real.

It's terrifying to realize you don't exist. That no one can actually see you and if you jumped from the top of your apartment building no one would mourn not because no one likes you, (though that applies too) but because they wouldn't even know you were gone. After all, you weren't even there in the first place.

\----

Eventually, Izaya ends up in the bathroom. He's shaking by now, half convinced that his brain is tricking him because if he doesn't exist how can he still feel the world around him? He must be imagining the sensations of physical touch, his mind trying to ease some of the tension so he doesn't completely snap yet. It's not working very well.

His hands grope around in drawers and through the medicine cabinet, looking for something that will assure him his sense of touch isn't completely fabricated. His hands finally find what he's looking for and he pulls it out of it's hiding spot in the back of the medicine cabinet, where he stuck it last time to try (not hard enough) to keep himself from finding and using it again. He fumbles with it, nearly dropping it a few times.

Finally Izaya gets settled on the edge of the bathtub. He takes a moment to breathe, wondering if he'll actually feel anything or if the small flickblade clutched in his hand will just pass right through his arm without a trace.

He doesn't brace himself however before bringing the blade - sharp, so sharp - down on his arm, sliding it across his skin and painting himself red. He lets out a gasp of pain, followed by a sigh of relief because he felt it. He felt the blade cutting into his skin, the drag of it as he slid it across.

Unfortunately the pain dulls quickly and soon he's nearly back to feeling numb. This is quickly remedied however as he draws another line in his skin, another relieved sigh escaping even as his vision blurs despite himself. Soon enough the bathtub is splattered with red and his cheeks are almost as wet as his arms, sucking in shallow breaths as he tries to assure himself that nonexistent things can't feel pain and as his arms now hurt almost too much for him to bear then he must be real. He has to be real. There is no other explanation.

\----

Yet he isn't sure he really believes it. If pain means he's real then surely someone should be able to talk to him now. Izaya leaves his knife clattering in the bathtub and stands up too quickly, swaying dangerously as a wave of dizziness and nausea washes over him. He stumbles to the side, leaning on the sink counter and taking deep breaths. After a moment, when the world stops spinning, he finally pushes away from the sink and stumbles out into the main room. 

Heavy breaths fill the silence of Izaya's apartment, mixed with small sounds of panic because he's sure the world outside his floor to ceiling window has turned into a void of darkness and lights and chaos that he has no control over.

Soon he's running into his desk as his hands skitter over it frantically, connecting with his phone and nearly knocking it to the floor before he manages to catch hold of it. He dials blindly, punching the numbers in with practiced ease despite his hands shaking and the blood making the phone slippery in his hand. He's done this in similar situations far too many times to count.

The phone is pressed to his ear and he's suddenly worried he might pass out before anyone picks up. His fears are eased however when he hears the click indicating that the call has been answered.

"This is Kishitani speaki-"

"Shinra." Izaya's voice is hoarse and slurring. His vision is swimming and he's really sure he's going to either pass out or vomit. Hopefully not both. "Shinra, plll-ease tell me you c'n hear me...!"

"Izaya? What's going on? You sound horrible."

Izaya is hardly listening to Shinra's response, just barely registering that Shinra acknowledged him. A relieved breath escapes as he slides to the ground.

"Th'nk god... You c'n hear... me..."

"Izaya! What's going on? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"'M fine..." Izaya tries to assure Shinra that there is nothing wrong. Of course there's nothing wrong. He exists. What could possibly be wrong? Yeah his arms hurt but really, he's fairly used to that by now. He can just take some painkillers and that will go away soon enough. "Fine... 'M at home, I jus'... gotta go take s'me... paink'llers..."

The phone clatters on the floor as it slips from his hand. Shinra's voice is shouting frantically from it but he doesn't really hear that. His arms hurt and he can't really remember why but he wants it to go away. He's sick of that pain.

He wants it all to just go away.

\----

Light filters through thin curtains, throwing waving shadows on the floor. Eyes squint and blink, trying to understand why there are such curtains in the room. Izaya doesn't remember owning such curtains. Any curtains he owns are much darker, not allowing so much light.

Eventually it registers the this just isn't his room. It's not even his apartment. It takes longer for him to remember whose apartment it is, and the pain in his arms, head, and stomach comes back first. A small groan breaks the quiet and he sits up, last night's events slowly coming back to him.

After dropping his phone he had gone back to the bathroom and gotten painkillers. Now that he thinks about it however he's fairly sure that whatever he grabbed was definitely not painkillers. And whatever it was he took far too much of it, which accounts for his headache and the fact that his stomach still feels twisted into knots. His throat stings as well and he can taste acid on his tongue.

As Izaya looks around the room he realizes that Shinra must have come and gotten him. The room he is now in is the guest room in Shinra's apartment, where he occasionally keeps overnight patients. Izaya himself probably uses it more than anyone else.

After getting himself a bit more oriented he slowly gets up, swaying some but managing to stay on his feet. He slowly makes his way to the doorway and peeks out, unsure of what he'll find but not sure if he wants to talk to Shinra or not.

Unfortunately he doesn't get much of a choice. Shinra bustles over the moment he hears the door open and the next half hour is a whirlwind of "How do you feel?" and "What happened?" and "Just fuck off, Shinra." Izaya is poked and prodded, told to strip and poked and prodded some more, until the ridiculous doctor is finally satisfied that Izaya is indeed fine. Then Shinra leaves with a swish of his lab coat and Izaya is exhausted already.

He sneaks out before Shinra gives him a lecture on proper knife and drug use, not wanting to bother trying to explain to someone like Shinra the sensation of not being real.

\----

The train ride back to Shinjuku is near torture. Izaya is still nauseated and he nearly vomits all over the lady sitting next to him but manages to make it back to his apartment without making a mess of himself. 

Unfortunately, he never called Namie to tell her not to come in today so instead of having a blissfully quiet apartment to come back to he is instead greeted by typing at a computer that is somehow too loud for his headache. Naturally, Namie can't let Izaya's absence go un-commented on, so as soon as Izaya is seated on his couch the barbed question is shot right at him.

"So why is it that I was here on time for work and you, who lives here, wasn't even home? Out whoring yourself out for information again?"

"How many times do I have to tell you," Izaya responds, his tone amused but a bit tired despite his effort to keep up his normal facade. "I do not whore myself out for information. Whatever you might have heard is just a nasty rumor and you should know by now not to believe the rumors about me. Otherwise you'd have to admit that you will always lose to me, since there are quite a few rumors going around that involve me fucking my secretary. They're quite funny, actually, would you like me to sho-"

He cuts off as there is a loud crack of a pencil snapping somewhere behind him. A wide grin spreads across his face.

Namie may be adept at ignoring his existence but if he's persistent enough he supposes she can work as a good replacement for when he can't get ahold of Shizuo. 

Teasing her is almost as rewarding as goading on a beast.


End file.
